


Prima Facie

by Farasha



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-04-29 19:49:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5140388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farasha/pseuds/Farasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins is quite content at his family's law firm, reviewing contract language for mergers and acquisitions, until one Monday morning he receives a call from the meddling Gandalf Greyhame from the public defender's office. The criminal case Gandalf drops in his lap should be open and shut - assault, and the client admits to throwing the first punch. </p><p>As Bilbo finds out more about Thorin Durin and his sordid family history, he finds his interest piqued by the shady details surrounding the acquisition of Erebor Enterprises some years before. As the two of them begin investigating, Bilbo finds a passion for law he thought he lost years ago, and Thorin finds out what it's like to have someone in his corner who is quick-witted with nerves of steel. Whether Thorin can reclaim his grandfather's company remains to be seen, but one thing is certain - neither of them will be the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sunrise was slow to clear the tops of the buildings along 19th street. The pavement, where it could be seen between the bumpers of taxis and towncars, was dyed gold only in the center of the street and the middle of the intersections. Bilbo kept his pace brisk, too aware that he was running behind this morning. At his first opportunity he sprang across Irving Place, ignoring the startled honking he left in his wake. Normally, he could take his time walking from the parking garage to the office, but the Midtown tunnel had been especially vicious this morning. Bilbo considered himself lucky he'd made it out with his car in one piece.

He glanced at his watch as he rounded the corner from 19th onto 3rd Avenue. If the little coffee shop down the way wasn't too crowded, he could probably still stop off for his usual before heading up to the office. He quickened his pace, only refraining from breaking into a jog because it would ruin the line of his suit. At least some luck was with him this morning. He got in and out with his coffee and a blueberry scone with enough time to spare to walk back up the block and into their building.

Took & Brandybuck was a newer firm, as law firms in Manhattan went, but no less prestigious than their generations-old compatriots. Founded by the redoubtable Belladonna Baggins-nee-Took and her sister Mira Brandybuck, it had carved a niche for itself taking on the stickiest of corporate cases - acquisitions, breach of contract, damages, and the like. Bilbo himself could have been senior partner, but left that to his cousins. His uncle Isengrim still held the reins, though he was well past retirement age, and appeared to be grooming Bilbo's cousin Fortinbras to take over. Bilbo was only happy the man had stopped asking _him_ to head up the firm. His place was in his office, and he was quite comfortable at junior partner, thank you very much.

The elevator doors slid open on a flurry of activity, as was typical for a Monday morning - everyone scrambled to get on top of any developments that may have happened over the course of the weekend. As soon as someone hung up a phone, another would ring, and the whir of printers and the clacking of keys sounded over all of it. A harried-looking paralegal ran by the elevator bank with an armload of papers, her curly hair already escaping its pins. Bilbo took a long sip of his coffee in an attempt to keep from being waylaid on his way in.

"Bilbo Baggins!" called a harsh, unpleasant voice.

Bilbo bit the side of his tongue to keep from wincing and plastered a polite smile across his face before he turned. "Lobelia. Great to see you, happy Monday. I was just about to pop into the office and check my messages-"

"I'm still waiting on the final review of the paperwork for the Farnham-Horizon merger," Lobelia interrupted, lips pressed together until they were bloodless and a pinched look around her eyes. "You said it would be on my desk Friday evening!"

"I ran into a tangle of clauses someone appears to have snuck in," Bilbo said calmly, refusing to rise to her bait. "I assumed you would rather it done right than done quickly."

"Both is preferable," Lobelia said.

"If we could always have both, we wouldn't need as many paralegals." Bilbo said, backing away as he spoke. "It'll be done as soon as possible!"

Lobelia looked like she wanted to say something else, but by then Bilbo was close enough to simply dart into his office and let the door swing shut behind him, breathing a small sigh of relief. "Good morning, Prim. How was your weekend?"

Everyone who worked at Took & Brandybuck was related somehow, but Primula Brandybuck was his first cousin - the two of them might have been separated by a good twenty years, but they were close, and she never lost a chance to tease him. Primula took the pen she was chewing on out of her mouth and tried unsuccessfully to hide a grin. "Ambushed by Lobelia on your way in again?"

"That woman has a sixth sense for when I'm going to hit the office, I swear to you." Bilbo crossed the small waiting area and vanished momentarily into his office proper, setting down his briefcase and the still-wrapped scone before coming back to lean in the doorway.

"I think it has more to do with the fact that you hit the office at nine in the morning, on the dot, every morning." Prim stopped trying to hide her grin altogether. "You're predictable."

"Hush, you," Bilbo said. "You're in a good mood for a Monday - did you and your young man have another date this weekend?"

"Don't!" Prim hissed, staring anxiously at the door. "You know if Rory hears you he's going to tell Dad, and if Dad finds out he'll be _mad_ pissed."

"Primula Brandybuck! Language. You're in a professional environment."

"Sorry." Prim tucked a stray blonde curl behind her ear and bit her lip for a moment before whispering, "I think Drogo wants to get married."

Bilbo blinked at her. "You're nineteen."

"I know! And I'm not going to - forget Dad, Mom would have a cow. She always said 'degree before marriage,' and I'm almost done with sophomore year - I can't get married _yet_." Prim's eyes fixed dreamily on the wall and she propped her chin on her hand. "Of course, that doesn't mean we can't get engaged."

"If you wear a ring to the office Rory might have a heart attack," Bilbo said. "Any messages?"

Prim sat up straight abruptly, her eyes going wide. "Oh! I forgot. There's a guy who's been on hold since I got in - the phone was ringing as soon as I opened the door. It's the weirdest thing. He wouldn't leave a message, just said he'd be on hold as long as it took. Old guy, sounds like."

"Did he give you a name?" Bilbo pushed off from the doorframe, going to his desk and picking up the handset.

"Grey something," Prim said. "It was a weird name."

Bilbo stared at the phone warily. "I'll bet I know who it is. Go on and send it through. If I have any morning appointments, tell them I'll be a moment." The call light flashed a second later, and Bilbo took a deep breath before punching it and tucking the handset under his ear. "Bilbo Baggins speaking."

"Bilbo! My goodness, in the office at nine, how luxurious." The voice was weathered and old, boisterous without being deafening, and Bilbo recognized it immediately.

"Gandalf Grayhame. When's the last time you even called me? You could have left a message with my secretary."

"That was your secretary? She sounded like a child - and this is too important to leave to a message. I have a case for you."

Bilbo's hands paused in the motion of pulling his laptop out of his briefcase. "Aren't you still working at the public defender's office?"

"Good of you to remember. I am still, and the particular case that crossed my desk this morning is one I would like to offer to you." Gandalf's voice was infuriatingly calm, as if he called Bilbo with cases every day.

"Me?" Bilbo still hadn't taken a seat, his laptop half out of its bag. "I assume it's a criminal case?"

"Ah yes, you also remember what the public defender's office is for. So you haven't vanished completely from the sphere of actual justice while you've been twiddling around with mergers and acquisitions."

"You can't talk to me like I'm your intern anymore," Bilbo said sharply. "This is my mother's practice and I'm quite proud to be continuing her legacy-"

"Your mother never holed herself up in her office putting line notes on _contracts_ ," Gandalf interrupted, making the last word sound positively disgusted. "I remember what you were like when we worked together, and you certainly weren't content to be stuck in one place then."

"People grow up," Bilbo said, finally settling into the chair. "People change."

Gandalf huffed, a noisy burst of static through the phone. "At least look at the arrest record before you dismiss it entirely. There's more to this case than a simple criminal charge - it's something you could really sink your teeth into."

Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling like a headache was coming on, and flipped open his laptop. "I don't recall ever telling you I was interested in getting phone calls from you trying to dump cases in my lap at nine in the morning on a Monday."

"Yes, and how many pro bono hours have you done so far this year?" Gandalf's voice was irritatingly smug.

"It's April. I have plenty of time before the end of the year." Nothing but silence on the other end of the line - Gandalf knew very well that his curiosity would eventually get the better of him. Bilbo supposed there was no sense in wasting both of their time. "Who's the client?"

"Thorin Durin," Gandalf said, and Bilbo's fingers paused in the middle of pulling up the police database - at least, the public side he had access to.

"Durin? As in the Durins of Erebor Financial?" Bilbo had been fairly young at the time the Erebor case was plastered across all the tabloids, but he remembered some of it. A questionable acquisition, talk of a bad contract, and a well-off family laid low.

"The same," Gandalf said. "I'm surprised you know of it - the Erebor affair was before your time."

"My mother talked about it some," Bilbo said, the memory coming to him even as he spoke. He remembered his mother's tight face, the twist of her lips as she angrily threw that morning's issue of the _Post_ in the fire. He remembered asking about it, remembered her telling him not to concern himself over it, that it was just a friend going through a difficult time. She had been deliberately vague - granted, Bilbo must have been around twelve at the time, nowhere near old enough to understand.

"Belladonna always maintained that what happened to the Durins wasn't right. At the time, Took & Brandybuck stayed out of the matter - there was another firm supposedly consulting on the acquisition that had been frozen out, and your mother's was too new to try and push into that territory. But I remember her saying she would love to get her hands on the contract."

Bilbo knew what Gandalf was doing, and he tried to steel himself against it. His internship with Gandalf at his former firm had been a whirlwind year of difficult defenses. Gandalf was prone to taking the types of cases that the District Attorney regarded as open-and-shut - and then winning them.

The arrest record Bilbo found was brief - it seemed the accused, Thorin, had only been taken in late last night. The intake photo had yet to be posted. He skimmed over the details. "Assault? This is your interesting case?"

"It could be a felony charge, Bilbo. Not something that needs to be tied around the neck of someone who's already been through a trying few decades." There was a mild rebuke in his tone. "I wouldn't have called you simply to waste your time. The Durins are old friends of mine - I can't take this one, but it deserves someone who won't give up on it."

He had certainly called the right person for that. Bilbo had something of a reputation for not letting go once he'd gotten his hands on something. It usually drove the other partners at the firm up the wall - his attention to detail made for missed deadlines, but Bilbo firmly believed that a job well done was not a job done quickly.

"Gandalf, I have a merger on my desk that's been there for three weeks because they keep sneaking things into the contract that I have to remove and kick back, and Lobelia wants it done by end of day, I don't have time to go haring off after criminal cases - I'm not a trial lawyer!"

"My dear Bilbo, I highly doubt this case has any chance of making it to trial with you at the helm. You are quite clever enough to have it dismissed at the arraignment," Gandalf said. "At least go to the station and speak to him in person, get it from him in his own words. If you still don't want to take the case after that, I won't bother you any longer."

Bilbo doubted that, but he huffed a short sigh nevertheless. "Where is he?"

"77th precinct. Utica and St. Mark's." There was a pause, and when it became clear that Bilbo hadn't the first idea where Gandalf was talking about, the old man sighed and added, "It's just in between the Utica stops on the A and the 4."

Even with the explanation, it still took Bilbo a moment to place that on his mental map of the city. "Flatbush? You're sending me to _Flatbush_?"

"The precinct is in Crown Heights. I'm certain you'll survive a trip to Brooklyn on the subway," Gandalf said dryly.

Bilbo grumbled under his breath, but he scribbled down the necessary information on a handy notepad. "I'll talk to him, but I'm not promising anything," Bilbo warned. "Assault is usually cut and dry, and Uncle Isengrim isn't going to like it if I start wasting my time fighting a hopeless defense."

"There was a time you had more faith in me than that," Gandalf said, and despite himself, Bilbo felt a twinge of guilt at the disappointment in the man's voice - which was ridiculous. He wasn't an intern anymore.

"When is the arraignment scheduled?" Bilbo scribbled a quick note and waved animatedly until he caught Prim's attention from her desk.

"This morning," Gandalf said, and Bilbo nearly choked.

"Th- _This morning?_ How on earth did it get scheduled that quickly? The state must have barely had time to put together the charges!" Primula's face squinched into a confused frown as she slowly took the note Bilbo handed her - he waved her away.

"How indeed?" Gandalf asked. "You have until ten thirty if you want to meet him before he goes to the courthouse." Bilbo heartily wished it was possible to strangle him through the phone.

"I'll call you to let you know how it went," Bilbo said, and hung up without waiting to hear a reply.

"Where are you going that you need me to cancel your appointments?" Prim asked, trailing behind him as he packed up his briefcase and strode out of the office.

"Brooklyn," Bilbo said, the name emerging from between his teeth like a curse.

"Brooklyn? Why? What's in Brooklyn?"

"If it's anything worthwhile, you'll be the first to know." Bilbo jammed the button for the elevator almost viciously.

As a native New Yorker, there were many things that Bilbo felt justified in despising about the city: grey slush in his snow boots in the winter, tourists stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, overpriced "I Heart New York" trash sold at nearly every drug store, the omnipresent smell of hot garbage in the summer. But the one part of city life that Bilbo had the hardest time stomaching was the subway. It was the source of endless mockery from Prim - gentle teasing about being well-off enough to afford the tolls and parking fees, not to mention the ridiculous gas prices - but Bilbo categorically refused to take the subway unless it was absolutely necessary, and saving a handful of dollars on his daily commute did _not_ count.

But if the choice was taking his car to _Brooklyn_ of all places to cruise around for the better part of an hour looking for a public garage or hopping on the train for less than twenty minutes, Bilbo found that his practicality won out over his distaste for... everything that came with subways. Namely crowds, dirt, tightly enclosed spaces, and _noise_.

One hand held onto his briefcase with a white-knuckled grip and the other was fisted in the pocket of his suit jacket. What was seasonably warm and pleasant weather above ground turned hot and stifling in the station. A kiosk with a smudged, sticky screen that had probably seen hundreds of hands just that morning yielded a bright yellow card, which he swiped while trying not to touch the turnstile.

It was still early enough that the rush wasn't completely thinned. Bilbo glared at his watch, stepping up to the broad yellow line at the edge of the platform and leaning over to look down the tunnel. He wouldn't have much time to talk to the client - or rather, to the _accused_ , since he still had not decided to represent the man.

A light winked into visibility around the bend in the tunnel, and Bilbo stepped back, wrinkling his nose at the smell of hot metal and dust that wafted out ahead of the train. It roared closer at alarming speed, rattling through the tunnel, and then a screech of thrown brakes echoed through the station. Wind from ahead of the train buffeted Bilbo as its front blew past him, still shrieking its way to a halt. The doors shuddered open jerkily, like their motors had long since worn down.

Bilbo held his briefcase in front of him like a shield and shoved his way onto the train until he found a place to hang on that didn't necessitate he reach over three other people. It was still uncomfortably, awkwardly close to every other rider - and of course, Bilbo hadn't bothered to look at _which_ train he'd boarded beyond noting the green striping on the sign and the side. Instead of the 4 express he'd intended to catch, after a couple stops he managed to decipher the conductor's garbled loudspeaker wheezes to find he was on a 5 local. He was forced to transfer trains at a run, slipping in between the doors to the 4 train just as they shut behind him.

That was to say nothing of the four blocks in Brooklyn he then had to take at a jog, his briefcase wielded in front of him like a shield. He came to the precinct struggling for breath, leaning against the rough brick of the wall. The shield of the NYPD was painted on its surface, the white letters just under Bilbo's shoulder cheerily spelling "Police & Community Working Together."

Bilbo gathered himself, smoothed down his suit and tie, and swept a hand through his hair, putting himself to rights. A quick glance at his watch made him frown and push off the wall, striding into the precinct with his back straight, hoping he wasn't too flushed.

Behind the intake desk sat an officer with a bored expression and a rumpled uniform. Bilbo cleared his throat as he approached, and the officer's gaze landed on him with no change in demeanor. "Yeah?"

"I'm here to see Thorin Durin. I understand he's being held here waiting for arraignment." Bilbo smoothed his suit jacket again, glancing down at it to make sure he hadn't picked up any smudges from the subway.

"Just a sec." The officer hunched over the desk computer, punching the keys with his index fingers.

Bilbo glanced down the hallways to either side of him. The precinct was chaos of a different kind than the law firm, but it still felt somewhat familiar; file folders and paperwork, the whir of copiers, the omnipresent ringing of phones.

"About to be transported to the courthouse," the officer said, pulling Bilbo's attention back to him. "You want to talk to him, you better make it quick. You his lawyer?"

"I've been asked to consult on the case," Bilbo said. He hadn't decided anything yet.

"Good enough," the officer grunted, heaving himself up from his desk. "Come with me."

The officer led him back to an interrogation room, which Bilbo was grateful for. It had been some years since he'd seen the inside of a precinct, but he remembered that the holding areas usually smelled terrible and looked worse. He had barely sat down when the door swung open again, admitting two other officers that looked just as trollish as their front desk counterpart, holding a man by the elbows between them.

He was roughly Bilbo's age, his long dark hair shot through with streaks of grey. It hung around his face, brushing his jawline and the unshaved stubble there. His hands were cuffed in front, and the officers forced him into the chair none-too-gently before clipping the cuffs to the table. He was still dressed in what were presumably the clothes he'd been arrested in - worn jeans and a faded T-shirt - though they'd taken his belt and his shoes.

"I don't see that those are necessary," Bilbo said, gesturing to the cuffs.

"He's being transported in ten minutes," one of the officers grunted. "They stay on."

Thorin Durin leaned forward on his elbows, bright blue eyes seeming to fix Bilbo to the spot as he was scrutinized from beneath that messy fringe of hair. Thorin's lip was split and swollen, dried blood still visible on his chin. His knuckles were bruised and bloodied. His left eye was purpling rapidly, and there was a cut above his eyebrow. He had a bandage on his cheekbone, but the rest of the cuts and bruises looked untreated. Bilbo tracked over the injuries. It looked like this man had been on the other end of an assault, not committing one himself.

"You're the lawyer?" Thorin asked, breaking the silence. "You look more like an accountant."

"Excuse me?" Bilbo set his briefcase down on the table with a thump, frowning at the man sitting across from him.

"Why isn't Gandalf here? He said he would be handling this."

Bilbo could make allowances for someone having a bad day - which Thorin clearly had, given the state of his face and his knuckles and the way he moved slowly, seeming to favor his ribs - but this was just rude. "My name is Bilbo Baggins, of Took & Brandybuck. I've been asked to consult," he said coolly. "Mr. Greyhame is concerned there may be a conflict of interest if he represents you, given his history with your family. I was _told_ that you had agreed to speak with me."

Thorin snorted. "Typical Gandalf, sending a suit I can't afford instead of someone from his own office."

Privately, Bilbo agreed with him, but this was no way to start out an attorney-client relationship. "I'm here pro bono, Mr. Durin." He turned to the officer. "I'd like to speak with my client alone, please." The officers eyed him with something like suspicion, which Bilbo returned with a bland, inscrutable expression. They left the room with only a grunted warning that they needed to leave in less than ten minutes.

Bilbo folded his hands in front of him. "You're being arraigned in about half an hour. I imagine the state will seek simple assault, unless you were armed-"

"No."

"-Simple assault, then. Gandalf didn't give me much information before he sent me running over here. Do you have any priors?"

Thorin's jaw clenched. "Two. Also assault."

"Convicted?"

"I was on the first. The second was self-defense."

Bilbo opened his briefcase. He'd shoved it back together in a rush before running out of the office, so he had to rummage for a moment before he found a notepad. "Why don't you tell me what happened?"

"There isn't much to tell." Thorin held himself still, no fidgeting or restless shifting. His shoulders were hunched and his eyes fixed on the notepad rather than on Bilbo. "I had left work for the day and was having a drink with a friend at the pub he owns."

"How many drinks did you have before the assault occurred?"

Thorin glanced up at him then, and once again that sharp gaze seemed to pierce through him. "Three. Not enough to be drunk."

"All right. Continue, please."

"Azog Befylan came into the pub. His family and mine have... history. We had words."

"Hostile words?"

"Yes."

"Who threw the first punch?"

"I did." There was a pause, and Thorin seemed to bristle at a perceived silent judgment. "He deserved it."

"I'm afraid that isn't going to do you much good as a legal defense."

"He threatened my family," Thorin said fiercely, his cuffs rattling as he clenched his hands.

Bilbo's pen paused. "In what way? Directly? Did he mention any of them by name?"

"He mentioned my father. Thrain. He's been missing for five years."

"Did Mr. Befylan imply that he knew anything about your father's whereabouts?"

"Azog told me to stop looking into my grandfather's company if I didn't want my nephews to end up like my father." Thorin said it through clenched teeth, glaring at the stainless steel of the table.

"You've been investigating Erebor Enterprises?" Bilbo scribbled down a rapid series of notes in shorthand. "In what way?"

"Is it relevant?" Thorin's voice was sharp, and Bilbo looked up from his notes to find that narrow-eyed glare fixed on him now instead of the table.

Bilbo set his notepad and his pen down. "Mr. Durin, if you want me to represent you, I need to know everything. That includes the nature of the 'history' your family has with the Befylans, as well as any motive Azog Befylan might have had in coming to a pub you apparently frequent to threaten you and pick a fight. As of right now, I may be able to have these charges dismissed - but if your investigation has involved any activity of an illegal nature, the prosecution could make a case that Azog seeking you out was not an intentional provocation."

"I haven't done anything illegal!" Thorin started out of his seat, the cuffs rattling as they yanked on the table, and then hissed through his teeth, settling down gingerly again.

"I'm not here to judge you, Mr. Durin. Gandalf is a friend, and he's asked me to help you, but I can't do that unless you're honest with me."

That was apparently the wrong thing to say. Thorin grunted, sitting back in his chair, and fell entirely silent. Bilbo huffed a frustrated sigh, but just as he took a breath to continue, the door opened.

"Ten minutes is up," the officer said. "Time for transport. You riding along?"

Bilbo stood, packing up his briefcase to have something to do with his hands. Thorin watched as the police officers uncuffed him from the table, his expression unreadable. He'd been rude, and uncooperative, but - and damn Gandalf anyway - the case was far from open-and-shut. Bilbo was half-certain the prosecution would try to levy harsher charges than the assault warranted, given Thorin's status as a repeat offender. From what Bilbo knew of the Befylans, he didn't doubt there was moneyed influence involved. Thorin had clearly taken his share of a beating - Bilbo hadn't seen what Azog looked like yet, but he was willing to bet the injuries were about mutually even. This shouldn't have resulted in an arrest, or at the very least, Azog should be sitting in the cell across from Thorin's. 

But Bilbo couldn't do anything with an unwilling client, and Thorin didn't seem interested in his representation in the slightest. He had a contract to review, and other business to take care of that didn't involve a scruffy, abrasive man with a busted lip. "No, I won't," he said decisively. "At the arraignment, I strongly urge you to enter a plea of Not Guilty. There are mitigating circumstances involved, and you have a good chance of having the case dismissed if there are witnesses willing to speak for you."

The tightness left Thorin's jaw. He looked almost surprised when he asked, "You aren't coming with me?"

"I'm not going into a case without all the information, and it's been a long time since I practiced criminal law." A little white lie there - he'd _never_ practiced criminal law, although he'd assisted Gandalf during his internship. "You'd be better off with a public defender."

"Come on then," the officer said, pulling on Thorin's elbow. Thorin grunted like the pull had hurt, and for a moment a pang went through Bilbo at the thought of him not being able to post bail and sitting in jail with bruised ribs.

The moment was gone as the door to the interrogation room closed behind Thorin and the officer. Bilbo picked up his briefcase, giving them enough time to clear the hallway before he let himself out and followed.

What he didn't expect was for Thorin to still be in the lobby of the station. "-wrong time for this," he was saying, to a young man with dark hair very like his own. "You should be in class."

"I was in class until I heard you were in jail!" The young man was distraught, a scowl knitting his dark brows and his mouth pulled down in a frown. "Don't worry, Fili forg- erm," here the young man stopped and darted a sheepish glance at the officers, "is _getting_ a doctor's note."

Thorin closed his eyes for a moment, his face twisting like he was in pain. "Tell your brother I'll be fine - and go back to class, Kili. Your mother isn't paying for you to skip."

"Uncle Thorin, I think this qualifies as a family emergency." Kili was insistent, walking along beside Thorin and the officers even as one of them tried to discreetly shove him away. "What are they even charging you with?"

"I'll find that out at the arraignment - which I'm supposed to be going to now."

"I'll come with you," Kili said, his jaw set in a way that was so like his uncle it made Bilbo's lips twitch into a reluctant smile.

"You will not," Thorin said. "Your mother is already going to have my head when she finds out, I don't need to add to it."

"Do you at least have a lawyer?" Kili asked.

Thorin shook his head - then halted in the middle of the motion, presumably spotting Bilbo. The silence stretched, broken only by the officer's increasing insistence that the prisoner needed to be transported.

Bilbo looked between Kili's concern and Thorin's resignation, his grip tightening on his briefcase. That twinge in his chest was back, the one that he was beginning to think was _guilt_ from turning down the case. He was going to have to do something to Gandalf to pay him back for dumping this mess in his lap - maybe sign him up for a few dozen magazine subscriptions to be delivered to his office, or something else equally obnoxious.

"Yes, he does," Bilbo said, crossing the lobby. "Bilbo Baggins. I'll be representing your uncle." He offered his hand to Kili, who took it with a bright grin. He had an exuberance and boyish charm to him - it reminded him of Primula's boyfriend, and the cheer was infectious, inviting Bilbo to smile back. "He is right, though - there's nothing you can do for him right now. We'll find out what the formal charges are at the arraignment, and see where we can go from there."

"Go back to class, Kili," Thorin said, finally allowing the officer to propel him toward the door. "I'll have Mr. Baggins keep you informed."

Bilbo felt his mouth twitch into a frown - he hadn't promised to be a liaison between Thorin and his family - but he didn't protest, especially not when Kili turned that earnest grin on him and thanked him profusely.

The officers had them settled in the back of the transport van before Thorin spoke again. "I thought you didn't want to represent me."

"I didn't," Bilbo said. "I still don't. But if your attitude so far is any indication, you're more likely to say something damaging in court than you are to enter a Not Guilty plea, and Gandalf is a friend. If I can keep you from sabotaging your own case long enough for you to find an attorney who's a better fit, that seems like the best thing for everyone involved."

Some of the stiffness in Thorin's expression faded, and Bilbo thought he caught the hint of a rueful smile. He idly wondered if Thorin's real smile would look anything like Kili's, a thought that struck him by surprise and made him drop his eyes to his briefcase, clearing his throat. "Since you're stuck with me for now, I think we should go over the details of the case while we have the time."

Thorin was watching him - Bilbo could tell, because he felt like someone was boring into his head through the top of his skull, and he was certain that sensation came from a pair of intense blue eyes. "Probably a good idea," Thorin said. "Should we start at the beginning again?"

"Please," Bilbo said, snapping his briefcase open to retrieve the notepad. "And this time, try not to leave anything out."


	2. Chapter 2

"Docket number thirty-nine, The People v. Thorin Durin. Single count of Assault in the Second Degree."

Bilbo stepped forward with Thorin to stand before the judge, locking his fingers around the handle of his briefcase to keep from wringing his hands together. Assault in the Second Degree was a felony charge - he'd predicted that the state would try it, but actually facing the judge on the bench as the charge was read out was another matter entirely.

The courtroom was crowded. Any arrests made over the weekend had to be arraigned on Monday morning or risk civil rights violations. The judge, the Honorable Elrond Peredhil, a severe-looking man with sharp features and dark eyes, looked harried enough to want to get through the cases as quickly as possible.

Bilbo did not, however, see Azog Befylan anywhere in the rows of seats behind the prosecution. If he thought the case unusual before, he was even more suspicious of the charges now. If the state was prosecuting on Befylan's behalf because the man chose to press charges, he should be present.

Thorin stood stiff - for a moment, Bilbo thought he was also reacting to the charges. But a glance up at his client showed that Thorin's gaze was fixed on the prosecutor, a man in a slim grey suit with his long blonde hair tied neatly back. Thorin was hardly being subtle about glaring daggers at the prosecution.

The judge looked them over. "How do you plead?"

Bilbo leaned up to Thorin, whispering, "I can enter the plea for you, if you'd like. Is there a reason why you're trying to make the ADA spontaneously combust by glaring?"

Thorin glanced down at him, his jaw working, before he unclenched his teeth. "Thranduil Greene, formerly of Greenwood Consulting. His family and I... also have a history."

Bilbo's instincts perked up immediately. "A hostile history?"

"Yes - after losing the contract with Erebor, his company went under. He held a grudge."

Looking between Thorin and the Assistant District Attorney, Bilbo thought that the grudge was practically palpable. It sent a thread of excitement through him. "Your Honor," he said, turning to the judge. "I move to have the case against my client dismissed. The victim came into an establishment my client is known to frequent, and deliberately provoked my client. However, only my client has been charged. My client has a legal right to face his accuser, however, the victim is not present."

It was very satisfying to feel Thorin startle next to him. After the very grudging conversation they'd had in the police transport van, Bilbo knew that Thorin was still unsure of his ability, or at the very least, unsure of _him_.

"The People object, Your Honor." That was Thranduil speaking, and Bilbo glanced over to find the prosecutor had fixed him with a speculative look. "The defendant has a history of assault against the victim in particular. The People believe that the defendant poses a continued danger to the victim."

"Your Honor, Mr. Greene has a personal history with my client and his family which appears to be coloring the DA office's willingness to charge the victim with assault as well. You can clearly see that my client has also suffered injuries - the majority of which were not treated while he was in custody."

"Objection - Your Honor-"

"That's enough from both of you," Judge Peredhil said, his lips compressed into a thin line. "Approach the bench."

Bilbo's heart was practically pounding in his throat, his palms sweating, but he stepped up to the bench beside the ADA, resolutely fixing his gaze on the judge instead of the taller man beside him.

"Mr. Greene," the judge said, turning his frown on the ADA first. "Is there a conflict of interest here?"

Thranduil's fingers curled into his palms - out of sight from the judge, but it was a point in Bilbo's favor that he'd managed to get under the man's skin. "Greenwood Consulting had a long-standing contract with the late Thror Durin's company, Erebor Financial. The contract was discontinued in the course of Erebor Financial's acquisition."

The judge examined Thranduil's neutral expression for a long moment before turning to Bilbo. "Conflict of interest on the part of the DA is a very serious allegation, Mr. Baggins. Do you have any evidence of provocation?"

Bilbo snapped open the clasps of his briefcase. "I have a signed statement from my client which details the events, including the fact that the victim, Mr. Befylan, approached him first and made a verbal threat against my client's nephews. There were several witnesses present that could be subpoenaed if necessary. Please forgive the handwritten statement - there wasn't much time to confer with my client. Unusual for a defendant to be arraigned so quickly, especially with the backlog from the weekend." 

_That_ caught the judge's attention, and he narrowed his eyes at Thranduil. "Mr. Greene, I don't appreciate anyone wasting my time, least of all the state. Was this defendant's arraignment purposefully expedited?"

Thranduil took a moment before he answered, and Bilbo could practically see him weighing his words. He didn't think the man would be foolish enough to admit any misconduct, but he also couldn't deny that Thorin was in court much earlier than the backlog should have allowed him to be.

"I did not make any requests regarding the defendant's case," Thranduil said slowly, once Judge Peredhil's dark eyebrows had drawn together in warning. "The speed of the arraignment did seem... unusual, but it was not at my request."

There was a long look exchanged between the ADA and the judge, and Bilbo got the sense that there was an entire silent conversation happening between the two men that he wasn't privy to.

"And Mr. Befylan's lack of charges?" Judge Peredhil pressed.

"No charges were filed," Thranduil said, once again sidestepping any responsibility on the matter. Bilbo couldn't help the small snort that left him, and was immediately treated to the piercing blue of the man's gaze. "I am not the District Attorney, Mr. Baggins."

Judge Peredhil sat back in his chair at that, his long fingers resting on the handle of his gavel. "It does not look good for the state to charge the defendant without addressing the provocation and assault on Mr. Befylan's part as well. I doubt he made a sufficiently strong case for self-defense with the defendant looking the way he does."

"I was not privy to the decision, Your Honor," Thranduil said.

Judge Peredhil didn't answer for a moment, looking over Bilbo's shoulder to where Thorin stood. Finally, he said, "Thank you, gentlemen," and raised his voice for the court to hear. "In light of the conflict of interest displayed by the District Attorney's office, the state will drop the charges. Case dismissed."

Bilbo could hardly believe it as the crack of the gavel sounded, and when he turned, Thorin looked just as poleaxed as he felt. True, it had been his idea to move for the charges to be dismissed, but he didn't think it would _work_.

When he reached the bench, the bailiff already had Thorin by the elbow and was escorting him away. "I'll get the paperwork over to the precinct as fast as I can!" Bilbo called after him, collecting his briefcase and the dismissal paperwork from bailiff.

"Thank you," Thorin said over his shoulder, sounding half-bewildered. Bilbo knew the feeling. Pointing out the possible conflict of interest _should_ have done nothing more than buy them time while another prosecutor was assigned to the case. Even the claim that Mr. Befylan should have been charged was weak at best - one case had no bearing on another unless misconduct was proven.

Bilbo was still lost in thought as he took care of the certified copy of the court dismissal. He left the courthouse and hailed a cab, tugging at the sleeves of his suit as he got in the back.

No matter which angle he approached the case from, it didn't add up. It shouldn't have been that simple. Either judge or the ADA or both had known something fishy was going on, and from their oblique conversation before the bench, Bilbo gathered that the 'something fishy' had to do with someone higher up in the District Attorney's office, possibly even the DA himself.

Bilbo didn't have good memories of the DA during his tenure there as an intern under Gandalf. DA White was a hard man with little tolerance for progressive changes in the law, especially those surrounding victimless crimes. Bilbo remembered a spectacular argument between Gandalf and the DA shortly before Gandalf resigned, Bilbo's internship was unexpectedly cut short, and his uncle promptly took him on. After ten years the content was hazy, but Bilbo certainly remembered Gandalf implying that his boss was more interested in being re-elected than in justice.

For the second time that day Bilbo spent longer than he should have to staring down the beady-eyed man at the front desk of the police precinct, who took his time typing in Thorin's case dismissal with a single finger before he finally grunted something and heaved himself out of the chair to retrieve the belongings that had been confiscated on intake. Inside the cardboard box was a battered wallet and belt, a pair of worn steel-toed boots, a ballpoint pen, a crumpled bar napkin, and a cell phone with a cracked screen.

Thorin emerged from the hallway not long afterward, rubbing his wrists where the handcuffs had chafed but otherwise not looking much improved. He had changed from the awful orange jumpsuit into his own clothes - faded jeans, a T-shirt with a worn logo stretched tight across his chest, and an open flannel button-down over the top. 

Bilbo offered him the cardboard box. "You'll have to apply to have the arrest expunged from your record - that doesn't happen automatically - but the paperwork states dismissal with prejudice, so the state won't be able to press charges on this again, even if they do assign it to another prosecutor."

Thorin kicked off the flimsy shoes from the jail and stomped into his boots, not bothering to pull the laces tight. He collected his wallet and his cell phone from the box, shoving both in his pockets, but left the pen and the bar napkin. He was in the process of threading his belt through the loops of his jeans when he seemed to realize that Bilbo was still there, patiently holding the cardboard box for him until he finished. He took a breath and then let it hiss out through his teeth. A couple more aborted attempts to speak finally resulted in, "Thank you."

"Not bad for an accountant, was it?" Bilbo asked, unable to resist needling Thorin about his rude first impression.

Thorin responded with a little half-smile that did unwelcome things to Bilbo's stomach. "I shouldn't have judged you so harshly. You're... not what I expected."

Bilbo's traitorous thoughts stuck on that, wondering if it was a good thing or a bad thing. He cleared his throat to mask the silence. "It was no trouble. Much simpler than I imagined it would be - although I do have to admit, I didn't expect that conflict of interest trick to do the job. It makes me wonder if there isn't something odd going on in the DA's office."

"How do you mean?" Even with his own shoes on and without the handcuffs, Thorin had clearly been better - his bloodied lip and knuckles were still untreated, and the black eye was beginning to swell rather spectacularly, but his eyes were sharp and focused on Bilbo, who found himself answering before he really thought about it.

"Just the way the ADA was quick to obliquely point the finger at someone higher up, with his 'the request didn't come from me' and 'I was not privy to that decision' side-stepping."

"Typical."

"We're lawyers, Mr. Durin. Did you expect a straight answer?" Bilbo shook his head, stopping Thorin before he could respond. "Nevermind - you're welcome in any case. I have to get back to the office. I imagine Lobelia will be _furious_ that I left this morning without even saying anything, she's been waiting on that merger contract for a week."

Thorin frowned, his dark brows drawing together. "You're not a defense attorney?"

Bilbo couldn't help but let out a startled bark of laughter. "Me? Good Lord, no, I practice civil law. I told Gandalf as much when he called, but he _insisted_ I belonged on this case - good call on his part, I guess, since you're here and not sitting in a cell right now."

Thorin was staring at him, those blue eyes wide and fixed on Bilbo's face. It made his skin prickle with an unwelcome flush - the gaze was no less intense now than it had been before the arraignment. "Have you ever represented a client at trial before?"

"No," Bilbo said, shifting uncomfortably at the admission. "Not outside my internship, and that was... well it must have been near fifteen years ago, now."

A strangled noise, something halfway between a laugh and a groan, climbed up out of Thorin's throat. "I'm going to kill Gandalf."

"I can't hear that," Bilbo said automatically.

His response made Thorin's lips twitch into a smile. Bilbo cleared his throat and pointedly checked his watch. Thorin gained a certain look about him when he smiled, like it was a secret he didn't share with many people.

 _Inappropriate,_ he told himself firmly.

"What _do_ you do, if it isn't representing Gandalf's cast-offs?" Thorin asked.

"Corporate acquisitions and mergers. Took & Brandybuck is one of the premiere firms in Manhattan for corporate contract review." Bilbo fiddled with the handle of his briefcase, trying to find somewhere for his eyes to rest aside from Thorin.

"Acquisitions?" Thorin sounded startled, and Bilbo looked up to find that his face had settled into something like determination. "Hostile takeovers?"

"On occasion," Bilbo said. "Usually that's outside of our wheelhouse, but I have been asked to review the language on shareholder contracts in the past."

"That meddling old-" Thorin cut himself off, presumably before he could go into colorful detail about what kind of person Gandalf really was. Bilbo almost wanted to tell him he needn't censor himself, that Bilbo was of a similar mind on Gandalf's habit of deciding other people's life paths for them, but Thorin wasn't done. "I want to repay you for this. It's the fastest I've ever been in and out of jail, and I have you to thank for it."

"No need, Mr. Durin. _Pro bono_ does mean that I don't expect compensation-"

"I don't mean monetarily," Thorin said, waving his hand like he was brushing Bilbo's protest aside. "I couldn't afford your retainer if I wanted to. But it seems like you have a busy schedule, and you still took the time to go to bat for someone you don't know. I owe you."

"Oh." Bilbo hadn't counted on Thorin wanting to _repay_ him. "I'm not sure-"

"Do you have a car?"

"-I can - what?"

"A car, Mr. Baggins. Do you have one?"

"Yes, but I don't see what that has to do-"

"I own a shop," Thorin said, pulling his wallet out of his jeans and fishing a card from its folds. "Bring it around sometime this week - I close early on Friday and we don't open again until Sunday morning, but any other time should do. Anything that needs done, I'll take care of it."

"Oh," Bilbo said, his fingers closing numbly around the card. They brushed against Thorin's and it took all of his willpower not to jerk away like he'd been scalded. "It's really not necessary."

"Mr. Baggins," Thorin said, and when Bilbo looked up he swallowed hard at the playful light in Thorin's sharp blue eyes, his small, barely-there smile. "I insist."

"Thank you, then." Bilbo hoped his voice came out as something other than a reedy croak. "I'll see you - I should have a space open sooner than Sunday."

"Sooner than Sunday, then," Thorin said. "If you'll excuse me, I need to call my nephew and tell him to stop plotting whatever scheme he and his brother are developing to break me out."

Bilbo returned his wry grin, the prickle in his cheeks growing stronger. He was almost certain the flush would be visible by now on his fair skin and hoped Thorin would chalk it up to - anything. Anything but what it was. He cleared his throat and checked his watch, fussing with the sleeves of his suit jacket. His steps were hesitant at first as he walked away, leaving Thorin standing in the lobby of the precinct with his phone pressed to his ear, and he all but stumbled out the door into the street, distracted as he was by the still-soft curve of the man's mouth.

 _Highly inappropriate_ , Bilbo berated himself, snorting at his own foolishness. He had a contract to finish reviewing, a partner to placate, and a public defender to call so he could chew the man's ear off about dumping bizarre cases in the laps of unsuspecting civil lawyers. None of those things involved being attracted to someone who was his _client_ until ten minutes ago. What the ethics board would have to say about that, Bilbo certainly did not care to wonder. He pulled his cell phone out of the pocket of his suit jacket and turned it back on - he'd switched it off while he was in court. Immediately, it nearly vibrated out of his hand, notifications streaming in for six new voicemails and no less than two dozen increasingly irate texts from Lobelia.

It was near one in the afternoon when Bilbo finally made it back to the office, with fully half the day gone - he hesitated to call it wasted, even though most everyone at the firm would probably see it that way. A good half of his floor was deserted, the senior partners apparently having taken lunch. Bilbo took advantage - he slipped into his office, scribbled a quick note for Prim, and grabbed the documents for the Farnham-Horizon merger before heading back out the door. 

His stomach grumbled, reminding him that a breakfast of coffee and a pastry wasn't enough to hold him over for the rest of the day, and he set out for the little deli a couple blocks up that he frequented. He took a right out of the deli, walked another block and a half, and came to the gated entrance of Gramercy Park.

The key to the park that sat on his keyring was his mother's lasting pride and the source of most of Lobelia's envy. Gramercy was a private park, accessible only to the residents and office tenants surrounding, and even then not all of them. With less than four hundred keys in circulation and no more being produced, owning a key was a mark of prestige - not that Bilbo ever lorded it over Lobelia, but she acted as if his possession of his mother's key was a personal affront. _She_ lived in the neighborhood, a block down from the office in one of the gorgeous old buildings on Irving Place - and she'd relentlessly put herself in the building's lottery for one of their seven keys year after year, failing to win every time.

Bilbo, on the other hand, kept his parents' house in Glen Cove. Lobelia had on more than one occasion quite snarkily insisted that Bilbo wasn't even a _real New Yorker_ , living on Long Island as he did. But as a partial owner of the building on 19th and 3rd, Belladonna Baggins had every right to a key, and had every right to pass that key on to her son. As long as Bilbo kept paying the annual fee every time the locks were changed, that right remained.

Occasionally, when Bilbo felt the need for petty revenge, he would take his lunch and some of his work here, enjoying the sunshine and the relative quiet. The park was small, but wasn't usually occupied with more than one or two people. He found a vacant bench and settled his briefcase beside him, tucking into the deli sandwich and contemplating the morning.

Gandalf had a reason for dropping Thorin's case on him, one that likely had something to do with the way Thorin's eyes lit up when Bilbo mentioned his regular job in corporate contract review. Bilbo hadn't gotten a reputation both in and out of the firm for his sharp mind and quick thinking by failing to pick up on supposed coincidences. This all had something to do with Erebor Financial, and he was going to get to the bottom of it.

His lunch finished, Bilbo pulled the merger contract out of his briefcase and settled the folder on his knees, sticky note flags close at hand and a red pen set between his teeth. The work wasn't easy by any stretch - a stray word in the wrong place could disadvantage Took & Brandybuck's client - but after the excitement of the arraignment that morning, Bilbo found the whole thing rather boring. He tapped the back of his pen against the pages and finally let out a long sigh when he realized he'd read the same line five times.

This wouldn't do. If he couldn't concentrate on his work, he wouldn't be able to get this done by end of business day, and he would end up taking it home. Lobelia wasn't just nagging him for no reason this time. The merger needed to be finalized so it could be submitted for review.

Bilbo set the document aside and pulled his phone from his pocket, dialing the number he'd written down before his dash out the door that morning. The phone rang twice before Gandalf picked up.

"Bilbo. You work fast, but you're still terrible about informing anyone when you're finished," he said, without even a hello.

"Good afternoon to you too." Bilbo fiddled with his pen, tapping it against his leg. "I suppose you heard that Mr. Durin was released."

"I did. Excellent work with that motion to dismiss. I couldn't have done it better myself."

"Yes you could have," Bilbo snapped. "What is all of this about? You didn't throw me that case just to see if I was still capable of trial law."

"No?" Gandalf's voice had that infuriating note of false surprise in it - the one he used when he knew very well that someone had the answer to the question they were asking.

Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "No. If I were a betting man, I would bet six month's salary this is about Erebor Financial."

"That old case?" Gandalf was smiling - Bilbo could tell through the phone. It was infuriating.

"What case? There is no case. The acquisition was already challenged and reviewed and found to be legal."

There was a long pause from the other end of the phone. "Bilbo, if you actually look at the case and find that there was nothing questionable about the acquisition, I'll eat the entire contents of my filing cabinet. Erebor's CEO was in poor health, and there were questions about his competency that vanished with his son - convenient, that."

Bilbo tipped his head back to stare at the sky through the leaves of the tree growing beside the bench. Gandalf was insufferable, and he was beginning to feel thoroughly taken in. "I just want a straight answer. Did you manipulate me into representing Thorin at his arraignment so I would get interested in the Erebor case?"

"My, that would be unethical," Gandalf said mildly. "I'm sorry, I'd love to continue chatting, but Monday is a very busy time for my office-"

"Just - stop." Bilbo could feel a headache pressing at his temples, but there was no avoiding the truth. Between Gandalf dangling the bait in front of him so expertly and the suspicious behavior of the ADA and the judge at the arraignment, his attention was thoroughly caught.

He could try and tell himself that Thorin's sharp blue eyes and the way he'd growled about Azog making threats against his family had nothing to do with his interest, but he would be lying to himself. Bilbo had his reasons to resist being embroiled in this nonsense, but self-deception wasn't one of them. The case was intriguing. _Thorin_ was intriguing.

He sighed into the phone. "I'll look into it. I won't promise anything else."

"I didn't expect anything else. Got to go - happy Monday." The phone beeped softly as the call ended, and Bilbo was left scowling at it, a deep frown pulling at the corners of his mouth.

It was easier now to concentrate on the paperwork in his lap - the nagging sense of something left undone had resolved with the call to Gandalf's office, no matter how annoying it was. It seemed that both parties involved in the merger had grown sick of the back and forth - neither had tried to sneak in anything untoward in the latest revision, and Bilbo was satisfied with both the legality and the fairness of the contract. He signed off on it and slipped it back into his briefcase.

Erebor Financial. The first time Bilbo had heard of it was that morning when he found his mother burning the _New York Post_. He vaguely remembered seeing news coverage, and even then it had focused more on the failing health of Erebor's CEO. The disappearance of Thrain Durin not a year later didn't even merit the front page. Bilbo only recalled it because his mother had saved the article, something worn and tired in her face.

Belladonna Baggins had always been a woman of boisterous cheer, ruthless intelligence, and fierce loyalty. If she was unsatisfied with the Erebor verdict, it stood to reason that she had been involved in - or at the very least aware of - what the press wasn't saying.

Bilbo stood up from the bench with his briefcase in hand. The merger needed to land on Lobelia's desk before she decided to start inundating him with texts again. He had cancelled more than one meeting to take Thorin's case this morning, and he would have to reschedule those.

And once his business was concluded, it seemed like a call to his mother was in order.


End file.
